The Stump

The ghost of an evergreen In my childhood backyard Beckons for company. Punished for growing, Without a second thought. I was too young, too small To understand the injustice. The flat remains were used As a base for my Mini baseball games. I'd run my way around And stomp proudly on My makeshift home plate. It was used and abused, Destroyed and powerless. The stump left over is A reminder of hurt and pain. Never again will it stand tall To watch over my backyard Like its flock of sheep, And never will I forget The sacrifice that needn't be.